Argosy, Vol. 122, No. 1 — page 103: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE MARRIAGE OF love? How you kave filled that emptiness that was killing me? How you have— have made my dreams—all those vague lit- tle ideals that fill every girl’s heart—do you realize how you have made them all come true? “You have won my love, Gerald. Are you going to cast it away—and leave me nothing—because you say that to take it would be dishonorable?” Dishonorable! They could talk thus of dishonor! They did not think of my honor —the honor of William Durrant—that they were dragging about in the slime of their words. I felt a sudden impulse to leap to my feet and confront them; but I held my- self firm. ‘We must think of him, too,” he said. “We cannot build our happiness upon the wreck of his life. We cannot do that, Ruth —we would lose out in the end.” | She dropped her hands from his shoul- ders. “His life wrecked?” She laughed bit- terly. “‘ You do not understand him, Ger- ald. Do you think losing me would wreck his life? It would not be loss of me, but ‘the loss of his wife that would hurt. His - wife—his honor—the honor of William Durrant—that would be attacked. You do not understand him if you think that.” Again she put her hands on his shoul- ders. . “T’m fighting, Gerald,” she went on softly. “ Fighting for the only thing worth while that life holds for me. Are you go- ing to let me go down beaten—a woman who has lost the only good things—real things—a woman ever can hope for. The love of a real man. And—and children. -To have children—oh, Gerald, you don’t understand—you don’t understand!” Her voice broke suddenly and she ended ‘ with a sob. I saw his arms go around her. I pushed my chair back violently and sprang to my feet. How it must have surprised them to be so abruptly confronted by me, the one per- son in the world they had injured, I can imagine. They both started guiltily at my sudden appearance. his feet; Ruth sat quiet with her eyes fixed upon my. face. Gerald Rolf rose to. WILLIAM DURRANT, 93 I strode across the room. I made up my’ mind then that there would be no heroics— no melodrama. The Durrants did not have to descend to that to protect their honor. “I have heard all you said,” I began sternly; I looked at each of them in turn. ‘“T could not help it—sitting there.” They met my eyes brazenly. There was a@ moment of silence; I wondered which of them would dare address me. Then Gerald Rolf spoke. ‘What you have heard, Mr. Durrant, is all true—every word of it. Perhaps it is better that you did hear—for now you can see things as they really are.” He spoke quite quietly, evidently suppressing with an effort his agitation and fear of the conse- quences of his folly. “Yes, I think now I understand you as you really are—you two. Since that is so —what do you think you're going to do about it?” I permitted myself a veiled sneer with this question. “You heard me say what I was going to do,’”’ Gerald Rolf answered. Ruth gave a low exclamation and I turned on her sternly. “Be quiet,” I said. ‘‘ We will settle this.” I faced Gerald Rolf again. ‘Your decision is very wise,” I said sar- castically. “It is fortunate that—” “TI said I was going away,” he broke in. “* Neither of you will ever again see or hear of me.” Again I heard Ruth give a low exclama- tion. ‘Tm leaving her happiness with you.” I took a menacing step toward him as he said this. He faced me with an assumption of bravery. ._ “Tm leaving her to you,” he went on, ‘What has happened has been—unfortu- nate—’’ His voice faltered, but he drew his lips tightly together and continued. ‘“‘ Perhaps it has been for the best—per- haps the future may hold more happiness for you both than the past gave you.” I could listen to no more of this. “Go,” I said sharply. He picked up his hat and coat which were lying near by. Then, avoiding Ruth’s eyes, he turned again to me. “TI will,” he said. He hesitated. Then: cComiclbooks.com